


Balance Out

by kellym1410



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Canon Compliant, D&D turn your location on, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Resurrection, i just want to talk, season 8 messed me up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 23:09:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19037419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellym1410/pseuds/kellym1410
Summary: Daenerys returns to the house with the red door and the lemon tree.





	Balance Out

“We do this  _ together.  _ We break the wheel,  _ together.”  _ The ashes from the destruction of Kings Landing were fading, and Daenerys could see their future ahead of them, solid and clear.

 

“You are my queen.” Jon’s voice, the earnestness she had fallen in love with, settled her frazzled mind back into place.

 

As she rose to the tips of her toes to meet his kiss halfway, her heart shook from the finality of it all. She had crossed the narrow sea, Jon had travelled beyond the Wall and to the South again, and they met at the throne of their fathers and mothers. Whatever friends and lovers they had taken before, all of their battles lost and won, none of them mattered. They were here, now. And more importantly, their line had a future. In a moment, she find the courage to tell him the secret she held within herself for weeks now.

 

She registered the sound of the dagger piercing her chest before its sting. While the air fled from her lungs and the strength left her muscles, she stared into the eyes of her equal, her lover,  _ her destruction.  _ As Drogon’s keening call searched for her, the last thought on the Mother of Dragon's mind was that she was so  _ cold. _

 

\--

 

Senses returning from numbness, Daenerys opened her eyes.  _ Betrayed, defeated,  _ her thoughts echoed,  _ murdered.  _ All of her struggles, the victories of her ascendants, the future lives her children, she had given all of them away for a kiss. As the coming tears threatened to collapse her from within, a voice cut through her thoughts.

 

“Khaleesi. Come with me.”

 

She looked up to meet the eyes of Jorah Mormont. The sight broke her even further. “Jorah, I am so sorry,” she gasped as the enormity of her losses spread out before her. “If I had never gone to the North, you would not have died. None of this was worth it.”

 

He smiled kindly. “Hush, Khaleesi. You and I both know you had to go North, and I can think of no other way I wished to meet the gods than standing by your side.” Allowing himself more freedom than he ever had in life, he gently brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Your life was my life’s best part. And the scales will balance out.” He held out his hand to her. “Now, come with me.”

 

Daenerys suddenly realized where they stood. The house in Braavos with the red door and the lemon tree and the childhood that she had never truly known. “Is that where we are now?” She asked Jorah, “With the gods?”

 

The Andal had an expression that was caught halfway between a grimace and smile. “Perhaps. Others wait for you.”

 

She pushed the red door open to see the face of Missandei, who had stood by her side for so long. “My friend,” she breathed, wrapping the other girl into a tight embrace.

 

“Your Grace,” she replied. “I’ve missed you.”

 

Daenerys pulled back but gripped her advisor’s hands still. “Is this why I’m here? To face all of those that I have failed?”

 

Missandei gestured to an open window. “Look here.”

 

She peered through the window and into the branches of the lemon tree. A gust of wind parted the leaves. Instead of the familiar courtyard, she saw the cities of Essos: Astapor, Yunkai, and Mereen. In the setting sun, the buildings had the shine of fresh copper. With tears in her throat, Daenerys realized that those hostile places had been more of a home to her than the land of her fathers.

 

“There is more to the world than Westeros, Your Grace,” Missandei said, not unkindly. “For decades, every child born into the Bay of Dragons will hear the story of the Silver Queen who bought their freedom with fire and blood. Generations will remember you, not as the Mad King’s daughter, but as the Breaker of Chains. And the scales will balance out.”

 

The sound of flint striking steel called Daenerys’ attention away from the window. Turning to the stairs, she began to walk to the upper floors of the house.

 

By the door to the room where Viserys used to sleep, Theon Greyjoy stood guard. Pushing past the childhood fear of  _ waking the dragon,  _ she peered inside. There she saw, not her brother, pacing and ever-hungry, but instead four women. The Sand Snakes were sparring with no end in sight while Ellaria Martell looked on, in peace at last.

 

To her right, the Greyjoy prince murmured, “My sister still believes in you.” Together they watched the Dornish warriors lept over and around each other. “The Iron Islands and Dorne will know independence, someday. The scales will balance out.”

 

Daenerys opened her mouth to reply, but heard flint strike steel again. The sound came from upstairs. There was only one room left in the house: her own. She climbed the last flight of stairs. Halfway up, she came face to face with the wizened featured of Olenna Tyrell.

 

“You know,” the older woman said, “I always wished you two had the chance to meet.” Before Daenerys could ask who she referred to, Olenna passed out of her vision.  _ If I look back, I am lost,  _ she thought to herself as she approached her old room.

 

Standing by the highest window was a woman Daenerys had never met before. The Mother of Dragons wondered how so much cleverness, ambition, and sadness could be locked within in the same pair of eyes. Upon hearing Daenerys enter, she beckoned for her to come closer.

 

“Watch them with me.” As the woman with rosy cheeks spoke, the leaves of the lemon tree parted again to reveal the Small Council chamber, and Daenerys realized she stood next to Margaery of House Tyrell, the Queen Turned to Ash. Below them, the Stark Boy-King looked on with eyes expressionless while the sellsword Master of Coin made an off-colour jest about the brothels of Kings Landing. “Do you think it fair?”

 

Daenerys was consumed with watching Tyrion and Ser Brienne, shells of their former selves, pantomiming their way through this meeting. “What?”

 

“I asked if you think it fair that they live while we watch from up here. They have made us footnotes in our own stories.” Margaery gazed at the other Queen thoughtfully. “My failure was climbing too high.”

 

“At least you chose to climb,” Daenerys remarked. “My failure was listening to those who told me to stay on the ground, and then collapsing when they tried to stand on my shoulders.”

 

Margaery smirked. “You still have one staircase to climb, sister. And the scales will balance out.”

 

“This is highest floor. There is nothing else,” she replied, furrowing her brow. However, the Tyrell girl had already gone to follow her grandmother.

 

Heart pounding against her ribs, she left her childhood bedroom to see a staircase that had not existed before. Everything around the steps faded from her vision.  _ If I look back, I am lost,  _ she repeated in her mind like a prayer. The stairs led to a trapdoor. Daenerys pushed it open and stepped into the cool air.

 

Night had fallen. She stood on the roof of her childhood home, but she did not stand alone. Melisandre, the Red Priestess who had spun such pretty prophecies waited for her.

 

“So,” she declared, “To go west, you travelled east. For the south, you journeyed north. And now, to touch the light, you pass below the shadows.”

 

“There is no light,” Daenerys argued. There was nowhere left to explore, no one left to speak to.

 

Without words, Melisandre pointed to the open sky.

 

Daenerys gasped when she saw her Drogon, nearly invisible against the dark sky, carrying  _ her  _ in his claws.

 

“Azor Ahai, are you ready to bring the dawn?” The Priestess held a torch in her hand and gestured to the coals that had appeared beneath Daenerys’ feet. They covered the roof and took the shape of the spiral she had seen reflected in the symbols of the Night King and the crest of her family. “The scales must balance out.”

 

Jorah, Missandei, her friends and allies from across the world stood around her. For the first time in her life, the Unburnt felt afraid of fire. “Will it hurt?”

 

Melisandre shook her head and touched the flames to the spiral of coals. “This fire will not burn you. It will only burn what you are not. We will always watch over you, Daenerys Stormborn.”

 

As the flames consumed the house with the red door and the lemon tree, Daenerys opened her eyes to see the stone city of Valyria. She rose slowly to her feet.  _ Land of my fathers,  _ she realized.  _ To go north, you must journey south, to reach the west you must go east.  _ Casting her eyes across the Narrow Sea while pressing a gentle hand against her abdomen, she finished,  _ to reach the end, you must return to the beginning. _

 

The scales would balance out.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my last effort to purge season 8 and Dany-related grief from my system. Hope you enjoyed, and please comment/kudos.


End file.
